


Hard To Handle

by fabalafae22



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Boners, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Erections, Inappropriate Erections, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Bruce Banner, POV Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-28 02:52:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15039074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabalafae22/pseuds/fabalafae22
Summary: See a doctor if your erection lasts for more than four hours.Steve can't get off. Bruce helps...unintentionally.





	Hard To Handle

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter One title by bannerenthusiast on Tumblr

Steve took notes. His memory was near-perfect, but this was how he got away with doodling during meetings, and this meeting took a lot of doodling to get through.

Another minute ticked by and it felt like he was back in school, and just like when he was fifteen, Steve felt something unfortunate happening to his body. Under the thick, expansive oak table, his dick confidently surged and hardened, poking forward valiantly as if on a mission to...do nothing. Because he was at a meeting. And Vision was talking because unless Tony was talking, Vision was always talking, delivering some universally condescending sermon from God or whoever so endowed him with the golden diamond in his forehead.

Speaking of endowed.

Steve's eyes darted toward Vision’s crotch reflexively. Did he even _have—_

Not important _._ What was important was softening his rock-hard cock under the table, so Steve got to work. He did mental math. He listened to Vision. He watched Clint chew a burrito and choke it down with something disgustingly sugary. He looked at Tony. Nothing helped. If his erection budged at all, it was twitching with anticipation.

When the meeting ended and everyone—gladly, tiredly—hefted themselves up and out of the room, Steve panicked because he couldn't just _sit_ there while everyone left; they'd ask what he was doing, and he couldn't very well say, “Actually, I'm waiting for my erect—”

“Coming, Steve?”

Steve's head jerked up and his eyes fell upon Bruce. Blush flared in his ears and neck before he realized that wasn't what Bruce had meant.

“Yeah.” He stood and casually—at least he hoped it looked casual—held the doodle-covered legal pad over his crotch. After managing small talk, Steve excused himself to the facilities and locked himself in a stall, heart racing.

He leaned back against the wall and unzipped his pants, sighing with relief as his swollen cock was no longer stuck to his thigh. Someone opened and closed the stall next to his, and his cock twitched expectantly.

Steve swallowed, his face and neck flushed with embarrassment as he reached down and squeezed it through his underwear, gripping tightly as if punishing his body for acting this way. He bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste iron and breathed evenly through his nose as if his heart wasn't beating double-time in his chest. He swiped his thumb over the tip and gasped as a warm, sticky puddle soaked through his underwear. _Oh God. Please._

The person in the other stall flushed the toilet and Steve deftly slipped his hand under his waistband and stroked once, twice, continuing rapidly until the sound of rushing water died down. His whole body was tense, as hard as his cock.

Steve held his breath as a SHIELD agent washed his hands dutifully and, then thank the Lord, the hand dryer hummed, consuming all sounds of Steve jerking his cock, quick quick, panting raggedly as precum dripped over his knuckles. His dick was so _red_ and his body felt so _hot_. A chill swept over him as sweat broke out over his flushed skin, and he felt the first warm tendrils of orgasm curl in his loins and _finally_ he looked forward to sweet relief, his mouth open in a silent _uuuhhh_ , until suddenly the hand dryer noise disappeared. Steve froze, trying to catch his breath as quietly as he could as another agent unzipped his pants and took a piss. His cock _ached,_ and he panted with need. Holding back a whine, he leaned his head back against the cool tile, closed his eyes, and waited until he was alone again.

The orgasmic feeling had been driven out of him completely and Steve sighed in frustration. He let go of his dick, letting it hang solidly against his leg. After a few deep breaths, Steve opened his eyes and took inventory of the situation. He was nothing if not a tactician.

Steve delicately tugged down his underwear, gasping as the cold air hit his slick, fevered dick and balls. Maybe, just maybe, he just needed to take a piss, like in the morning. Positioning himself over the toilet bowl, Steve swallowed his nauseous shame and willed himself to pee.

Nothing. Not even precum dripped from the uncut tip.

 _“Fuck,_ ” he breathed, and the bathroom door swung open with a squeak. Fresh sweat beaded on his skin, slipped down and pooled against his lower back. Ass bare, Steve shuffled back into Plan A.

Pressing his back against the tile wall, Steve shivered violently at the sudden chill against his behind. He rolled his shoulders, snapped his underwear into place, set his feet at parade rest and worked painstakingly slowly as he clung to the hope that no one would hear the slick sound of his fist sliding over his wet cock under tight boxer briefs. Eyes screwed shut, Steve jerked his dick while a urinal flushed. He stroked and stroked but it wasn't enough _._ He needed _more._ Hidden beneath the sound of gushing water was his groan begging for release.

He couldn't take this. Steve Rogers could take a lot of hardship, but this was just fucking ridiculous. He yanked up his underwear and adjusted the sticky fabric around his genitals. Angry and horny, Steve tucked his uncooperative dick under the waistband of his underwear, carefully zipped up his jeans, and left the stall to wash his hands and face.

Maybe this _problem_ would go away on its own.

Or not.


End file.
